


A  Matter of Perception

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-18
Updated: 2005-10-18
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Life isn't all that complicated for Fred Weasley. He has a loving family, a twin that understands him, and a sense of humor that sustains him even in the darkest of times.  True, he may smoke too much, and he may have made a mistake that cost him the love of his life, but there's always hope. If not, whiskey and brothers to laugh with make up for it. . .almost.  A Fred/Angelina outtake to the War and Passion Universe.





	A  Matter of Perception

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

_A/N: This takes place after the events in chapter 6 and 7 of Fire and Ice. . . Ron may not be the only one who accidentally fell into bed with someone he shouldn't have._

 

Fred sat crossed legged on the hearthrug, staring into the fire. It was late, well past midnight, but he couldn't sleep. George was gone, off with some Ravenclaw who had practically accosted the two of them as they came out of the Great hall. Fred hadn't been interested, but apparently George had. He'd been gone all night. 

Fred reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one with his wand, and then leaned back against the couch, breathing a sigh of relief. Damn nasty habit, he wished he'd never started. He and George had picked it up the past summer from the Muggle teenagers who lived near the Burrow. 

Of course, George had quit, the prat. He always had more will power. Though, Fred did show more restraint when it came to picking bed partners. George had earned the both of them a pretty big reputation when it came to girls. Everyone assumed that it was the two of them roaming the halls shagging half the female population senseless, when in fact, it was just George. No one stopped to think that the two of them might be a little different.

He took another drag off his cigarette, still staring blankly into the fire, not really seeing it at all. He'd been haunted all day after his conversation with Ron in the showers that morning. His little brother was right. He was a fuck up. He'd known it all along, but got off pretty well just ignoring it most of the time. Ron had brought all the wounds sharply to the surface and Fred was having a very hard time shaking them off. Try as he might he couldn't get Angelina off his mind. 

Unwillingly, he thought back to his first time. How could he not? It was right here on this rug, after all. He and Angelina had come back from the Yule Ball, breathless and laughing. They'd stayed up in the common room well after everyone had gone to sleep. They were good friends and they'd had a smashing time dancing. Why shouldn't they want it to last a little longer?

 

It had been on a dare from Angelina that he'd kissed her, and a bloke had to protect his reputation. It wasn't until weeks later that Fred admitted to her that she'd been the first girl he'd ever kissed. She had just felt so good that night. It was easy to go from kissing to touching, and in no time at all they were naked and panting on the hearthrug. He lost himself in the memory of how trusting Angelina had been their first time, even if it had been unplanned and unexpected, it had still been amazing. 

 

Fred snapped out of his thoughts when he heard someone coming. Swearing under his breath, he threw his cigarette into the fire. For good measure, he tossed the transfigured ashtray he'd been using in there too. He muttered an air freshening charm softly and leaned back, trying to look natural, even if he was up at one in the morning. 

His head turned when he heard the footsteps coming down from the girls' dormitory and he almost choked when he saw that it was Angelina. Her dressing gown was tied closed over her nightdress, and idly Fred realized that he remembered that particular nightdress, seeing the purple silk peeking out. She always looked breathtaking in that one. 

"Fred?" she said in surprise.

He swallowed hard. They very rarely ended up alone in a room together. Despite the rift between them, they were both afraid of what might happen. Angelina had made very clear that she didn't want him touching her, saying that if he valued her friendship at all, he'd stay away. And he did value her friendship.

"Ah no," he lied, forcing his voice to remain calm. "George."

 

Angelina snorted, turning her back to him as she picked up some of her books that she'd left on the table. "How thick do I look? I know who you are. Nice try, though."

Fred looked down, tracing his finger over the red and gold threads in the rug. "Sorry."

"Why are you down here anyway?" she asked off handily, avoiding his eyes as she continued to fiddle with her books. "I don't see some nameless girl around. Why would you be up?"

Fred narrowed his eyes at her back. He knew he deserved the jab, but still. . . "I do have some worth besides shagging. That's not all I do."

"Could have fooled me."

For some reason, he snapped. He hated the cold indifference from her. He hated the little comments all the time. He hated that she could just blow him off after what they had together. She was still affected by him, and he knew it. . .

 

"You're jealous! You want me back!" he yelled, startling himself as much as her. 

Angelina looked at him in shock. "I do not want you back. You were the worst mistake I ever made," she said coldly.

Fred actually recoiled like she'd struck him. He'd thought things couldn't get much worse, but he was wrong, that bloody hurt like hell. 

"Well, that's too bad. . . Because I'm still madly in love with you."

She paused, her face softening for a second, before her eyes hardened in that way Fred just hated. That wasn't his Angelina. She was supposed to be laughing, joking around with him, gazing up at him in passion, not looking so cold and unfeeling. 

"Yeah, you loved me enough to sleep with Katie, didn't you?"

 

Fred sighed. He'd been bleeding over this mistake for a long time now. 

"She found out her dad had been killed, and it just. . .happened. She was upset. What was I supposed to do, Angel?"

"Don't call me that!" she snapped at him. "And I'm sure you could have thought of another way to make her feel better besides shagging her."

"That's just it. . . I couldn't! And I've said I was sorry a million times."

"She was my best friend, Fred. I lost both of you because of that. Do you think I can ever look at her again without thinking that she'd slept with you? And I knew she needed me. . . that she was hurting because of her father and I couldn't be there for her. How do you think that made me feel?"

He was going to be sick. The fucking guilt was eating him alive. He reached into his pocket with shaking hands and pulled out another cigarette, lighting it distractedly and casting around for something he could turn into an ashtray.

 

"I didn't know you smoked." 

"Yeah, well, I do," he snapped, settling with transfiguring an old quill into an ashtray, hoping someone wouldn't miss it.

"It's bad for you."

"What the fuck do you care? You think I'm the world's biggest bastard."

She stood there looking at him, and Fred could feel the pity and contempt from across the room. It was about the worse feeling in the world. And she was watching him, making him feel very self-conscious, enough to make him throw away his cigarette after a few minutes and reach for a mint in his back pocket, ones he charmed to hide the signs of smoking. 

He popped one in his mouth and mumbled. "Stop looking at me."

 

"You're such a child," she sighed, making a move to leave.

Usually he wouldn't mind that comment. In his opinion most people were entirely too caught up with themselves and never took anytime to have fun. It was just, right then, that wasn't something he wanted to hear, not from her.

He jumped up and went to her, grabbing her arm before she could make it to the stairs. She turned to glare at him, looking him dead in the eye.

"Let go of me, Fred," she whispered vehemently.

"Why?" he shot back just as harshly. "Are you afraid of what might happen if I don't?"

"What's that suppose to mean?" she said, jerking her arm out of his grasp.

 

"You still want me." 

Angelina gaped at him for a second, and he saw a flicker of uncertainty before she closed up again. "Mighty full of ourselves, aren't we? If I wanted a quick shag I'm sure I could find better."

Fred wasn't fazed by her jab, and he smirked at her. "Do you?"

"Do I what?" 

"Want a quick shag? You implied that you were looking."

She backed up a step, obviously noticing some sort of primitive look is his eyes, and her assumptions wouldn't be misplaced. He was suddenly feeling very predatorial.

 

"I didn't imply that," she said, turning her back on him and heading towards the stairs again. "I'm going to bed."

He wasn't usually this assertive, but Angelina had pushed his buttons tonight and he was responding to it. After months of staying away from her, he just couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't even surprised at himself when he reached out and pulled her to him. Her back pressed against his chest, and he groaned. God, she felt good against him, and what's more, he heard her groan too. 

"I know you're stressed, Angel. You've had a lot going on. . . We all have," he whispered thickly against her neck. "I could make it go away. Just for one night. Then, you can go back to hating me tomorrow."

She was quiet for a second, then she pulled half-heartedly away from him, but he held on. She didn't really fight it when she ended up resting even more firmly against him and he didn't imagine it when she arched back into him, a sound of near defeat coming out of her.

"I don't need you," she whispered firmly.

"I know," he said, even as he reached around and pulled her dressing gown undone. 

 

Fred was never one to lag around. He ran a hand up one tanned thigh, loving the smooth feel of her skin against his Quidditch roughened fingers. He brushed against the silk at the apex of her thighs, feeling her shake against him, and certainly not protesting. He almost lost it right there when he reached inside her knickers, feeling how wet she was.

"Oh, God."

They said it at the same time, and Angelina's head jerked back against his shoulder. He cupped one of her full breasts with his free hand, feeling the tip harden through the silk of her nightdress.

"You won't tell anyone?" she breathed as she moved against his hand.

"I won't tell a soul."

"Not even George?"

 

"Not even George," he agreed, still teasing her, wanting so desperately to hear her come undone.

"Okay."

Fred felt all his nerves endings jump alive at that one simple statement. It was too good to be true, his mind could hardly register it, but his body sure did, painfully so. He ignored it for the moment. He wanted to hear her, wanted to feel her find release against his hand. 

He touched her in earnest now and Angelina fell forward, gripping the table in front of her. Her hair fell around her and he brushed some of it aside, kissing the nape of her neck, touching her, listening to her as little sounds escaped her, and he was sure she was biting her lip to keep herself from being any louder. 

She turned her head, giving Fred a view of her profile and once again he was struck by how much he loved her. Her features were so beautiful when they were etched with passion. He leaned down to kiss her neck again, stopping to suck on the small patch of skin where her pulse was beating erratically. He closed his eyes as a wave of feelings washed over him and Angelina climaxed. He could feel her whole body shudder in completion and, oddly, it was enough just to be close to her again, to hear her voice so pure and unrestrained, moaning his name. His lips moved from her pulse point to the nape of her neck. He kissed her skin in near worship as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo and waited for her to catch her breath. 

After a few breathless moments Angelina suddenly turned in Fred's arms. Her fingers threaded into his red hair as she bought his mouth to her. His gasp of surprise was muffled against her lips when she kissed him. His tongue slipped welcomingly past her lips and a flood of desire washed over him as he drank her in like a man starved. Fred held her face, his thumbs fanning over her cheeks, and he couldn't get enough. He didn't even notice when she started pulling at his clothes until the cool air hit his bare chest and Angelina's fingers were running down his arms as she pushed his shirt to the floor. 

 

He broke away, trying and failing to catch her quick hands before they moved to his trousers. "What're you. . ." Too late, the button was already undone, the fly half way down as she pressed a kiss to the center of his chest. He held her to him for a brief second, his fingers threading into her hair as he looked down at her. He wanted her so bad, just the thought of pushing her away hurt, but there were a million reasons why this was a bad idea, number one being that George would be walking into the common room anytime now. "Angel, stop. . ."

"Why? I can return the favor," she breathed against his skin as her hand slipped inside his trousers.

Fred squeezed his eyes shut as she stroked him. "Love, you have to. . .stop." He threw his head back, sucking in a sharp breath as he tried to think clearly. Angelina took advantage of his position, her lips moved up to suck sharply at his pulse point and flames raced through his bloodstream. Love, lust, a whole myriad of sensations flooded over him so quickly that his knees buckled and he reached wildly for the table, trying in vain to stay upright. 

Fred was on fire. He'd almost forgotten just how powerful her hold was on him, how badly the need could burn, blocking out everything but Angelina. He clung to her as he sunk weakly to his knees, pulling her down until he was sprawled out on the floor, looking up at her in awe as need for her throbbed from the very core of his being.

"Oh God, I'm sorry, Fred," Angelina said, stifling a laugh. "That was probably a bad thing to do while you were standing. . .It's just been so long and I want. . ."

"What do you want?" he rasped as he reached up for her, his fingers trailing down the column of her neck. "Tell me, Angel. ... I'll do anything."

 

Fred shoved her dressing gown off her shoulders, and stared at her hungrily in nothing but her purple nightdress that clung to her curves enticingly. He loved her skin, tanned and smooth, like a Goddess. He kissed the valley between breasts as she straddled him. He sat up and ran a hand up her thigh, letting it slide under her nightdress. The other pushed one silk strap aside making it fall loosely down her arm as he licked at her bare shoulder and cupped her breast, feeling the taunt nipple through the silky material. 

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured against her skin. "I could spend a lifetime just looking at you like this."

"Don't say those things, Fred," she said, her eyes closing, her head falling back as he kissed his way up her neck. "They aren't true."

"Oh, but they are," he breathed into her ear, and then shoved the other purple strap aside, making the nightdress pool at her waist. "You don't know how hard it's been to stay away when all I want to do is touch you, worship you. . ." He took one dark nipple into his mouth. His tongue laved over it and he sucked greedily, releasing it with a pop. ". . .taste you."

"When you say those things, it makes me feel as if I'm the only one and we both know that's not true. . ." she whispered, and Fred didn't have to feel to the pain to hear it in her voice. 

"I'm sorry, Angel," he whispered as he reached up and cupped her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "You have no idea how much I wish I could take it back."

 

She shook her head, and probably would have said something if the portrait hadn't opened. Angelina instantly flattened herself to his chest, pushing him back to the floor as she gasped and whispered in his ear. "Who could still be out at this time of night?"

"It's George," he whispered back. "Just stay still."

Fred was cursing himself. How could he have forgotten about George? Angelina had that affect on him. He just stopped thinking when she was around.

George climbed through the portrait, and then came to a dead stop a few feet into the common room. Even in the semi darkness, Fred could see the smile form on his face. They were pretty well hidden in the corner behind the table and Fred knew he couldn't see them from where he was standing, but it didn't matter, this was George they were dealing with.

_Bugger off!_ He thought silently, his eyes narrowed at George, knowing what he was capable off, even at the expense of his own twin. It had been months since he'd been with Angelina, he'd be damned if George would ruin it just to catch them in a compromising situation.

 

Tension and nervousness was flowing off Angelina. He unconsciously let his fingers linger on her neck until she calmed and they both breathed a sigh of relief when George casually ran a hand through his hair and headed up to the boys dormitory without looking in their direction. 

"That was close," Angelina said with a small, hysterical giggle. "Can you imagine what would have happened if he'd seen us."

"Yes, I can," Fred said, smiling mischievously. "It wouldn't have been pretty."

"Yeah, I bet you can," she said, burying her face in the curve of his neck and laughing softly. "You two are so bad some times." 

"Bad can be a good thing."

Fred was acutely aware of Angelina's naked breasts pressed against his bare chest, her strong thighs straddling him, her hot breath against his neck. The distraction of George was quickly forgotten. If someone had asked him at that moment, he wouldn't have been certain if he even had a twin. He let his hands trail down her back, over her nightdress that bunched around her waist, and reached under it to grip her arse. He really loved her arse. It was almost sinful how sexy it was, and it fit perfectly in his large hands. 

 

"You know you have the sexiest arse, right?"

Angelina huffed vindictively. "Better than Katie's."

"Oh yeah, much better. . . Katie has no arse," Fred agreed, too caught up in the feeling of her draped half naked over him to really pay attention to what he was saying. 

Angelina shifted over him, moving against his erection in a way that made him groan audibly. "She's really not your type."

"I know. . .Too blonde," he said, reaching up to brush lovingly at some of Angelina's dark hair and draping it over her bare back. ". . .too pale."

"Too thin."

 

She pulled up to look at him, but Fred didn't notice that Angelina's eyes had narrowed at him; he was too busy staring at her. He couldn't help touch one breast, letting his thumb fan over one nipple until it tightened. "Yeah, too thin," he agreed. "And she's got no tits either. . .Definitely not my type."

"Then why'd you sleep with her?"

Fred snapped out of his stupor and looked up at her face, frowning. "W-what?"

"Why'd you do it?"

He sighed, feeling his chest tighten. "I don't know. . .I really don't. I don't know how it happened. . . It was an accident, because you're right. . .She's really not my type."

"I want to believe you." Angelina sighed, falling back against his chest. "It just hurts so badly, Fred."

 

"Oh, Angel." He sighed, feeling pain rip through him. He rolled them over so that Angelina was pinned beneath him, and he stroked her face, her neck, knowing his eyes must show what he was feeling. "You're the only one who is my type. I promise."

"I know you've slept with other girls besides Katie."

Fred shook his head, feeling a bit embarrassed for some reason. "Only you."

She started and looked up at him in surprised. "Don't lie to me. . .That girl in Hufflepuff, she was talking about you."

"Which one?" Fred said, frowning.

"The one on the Quidditch team, the sixth year. I don't remember her name, but I heard her talking about you after practice a few months ago"

 

"Did she actually say my name? I have a twin, you know," Fred said, trying not to smile. "Good looking bloke, about my height. . . .Goes by the name of George. It must have been him she was talking about, cause I promise you, it wasn't me."

"She's black," Angelina sputtered, pushing at his shoulder to emphasize her point. "George doesn't like black girls, does he?"

"George likes all girls."

Angelina frowned for a second, and then stared up at him with wide eyes, looking trusting and innocent all of a sudden. "She was very graphic. . . Too graphic. I was sure she was talking about you."

"You didn't think the resemblance stopped at our faces, did you?" Fred whispered, trying not to laugh. "He looks like me from head to toe. . .All the parts are the same, lucky bugger."

"She described things only you do. Things only we do. . . or did, before. Girls talk, Fred. I know we're different. . . I thought it was special, just between us. When I heard her talking, I thought you were sharing our secrets."

 

"Please believe me, Angel. It wasn't me. It was George. If you want I can go upstairs and get him. I'm sure he'd be glad to fill you in on the details and you can compare stories."

Angelina shook her head, pulling a face. "That's all right, I believe you. Why'd you let me believe you were sleeping around all this time if you weren't? I said some awful things to you."

He shrugged. "I dunno, I guess it was the only way I could save face. . . It's pretty pathetic to sit around mooning over a girl who hates your arse."

"I don't hate you, Fred." She reached up, her fingers tangling in his hair once more as she pulled his face close to hers and whispered against his lips. "I could never hate you. . . even when I wanted to."

She hadn't said she loved him, but knowing that she didn't hate him, couldn't hate him, was enough to make his heart feel lighter than it had since this whole mess had started. He captured her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and grinding his hips against hers. 

 

He pulled away only to run his lips down her neck, whispering against her skin desperately. "Oh God, please say I can shag you, because it's been a really long time."

She giggled. "I guess it has. . . How'd you last so long when you're as randy as you are?"

"It wasn't easy. Maybe George and I aren't totally identical. . .I'm sure my right arm is bigger after so many months of wanking in the loo while he's off shagging pretty Hufflepuff's."

Angelina smacked his arm. "I thought you said you didn't like her."

"I never said that. George has excellent taste." Angelina looked outraged and he smiled before he ruined a good thing. "But mine's better. I think you must be sexiest woman in all of Hogwarts."

She laughed. "You've had better lines. . .I think you're losing your touch, because that was dreadful. You'll never get shagged with that bunk."

 

Fred's tongue traced over the curve of her shoulder as he reached down to shove her nightdress further down her hips. "Hmm, how about if I tell you that I thought of you all those lonely loo nights?"

"Eh, you're getting a little warmer."

He continued to push at her nightdress until it was around her thighs as his lips trailed over her breasts. "Yeah?" 

Unable to resist, he sucked one dark nipple into his mouth and her back arched. "Oh yeah. . ." she said, a low moan catching in her throat. 

Angelina was helping him pull the nightdress off, kicking at it impatiently as he slid it down her silky legs. It should be illegal for one woman to be so bloody sexy. He ran his hands over her waist to her hips as his mouth moved over her flat stomach. "What if I told you I'd think about how you taste. . ." he breathed against her hipbone, pushing her purple knickers out of the way. 

"You're getting _much_ warmer," she said, sounding more than a little breathless as she shifted impatiently, lifting her hips as he slid her knickers off.

 

Fred couldn't help but stare at her completely naked, feeling his heartbeat throbbing his ears. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Like a moth to a flame, he found himself bending over her and pressing a kiss to her black curls, inhaling the scent of soap and sex. It had been so long, and he was just hungry for her, it was the only word he could think to describe the desperation tearing at him. Angelina had draped her legs over his shoulders, and she was digging her heels into his back, forcing him closer as her hips bucked up in invitation. It was a testament to how far gone he was that he couldn't even find it in himself to tease her about her impatience.

He pressed another kiss against the inside of her thigh, just a breath away from her sex. "How warm am I now?"

"You're hot," she rasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, forcing his mouth closer to her. "Really hot. . ." He parted her folds and licked once, then sucked hard at her clit, drawing a strangled moan out of her. 

Angelina was pulling painfully at his hair. Her heels dug harder into his back. Her hips thrust forward instinctively and he had to grip them with one hand to keep her still, but he didn't care. Knowing she was as desperate as he was only added to fuel to the flames. It wasn't long before she was shuddering and wreathing beneath him. She released her hold on his hair, only to shove her fist in her mouth as she came, muffling her screams. 

Fred pulled at his trousers, pushing them down his thighs until they were tangled around his legs. His need was so intense that he was clumsily and finally it was Angelina who managed to get the trousers all the way off as she pulled him to her and used her feet to push off the offending material. Her mouth captured his, and they kissed hard, open mouthed, frenzied. He knew she could taste herself on him and that drove him mad too. 

He hooked one of her legs over his arm, while the other was back over his shoulder. She was so open to him, wild and brazen, and he loved her so much. In the back of his mind, he thought he might be forgetting something, but it didn't matter at the moment, because he was pushing forward. Her heat surrounded him as white-hot pleasure speared through his entire body. 

 

"Oh, God," he groaned, letting his head fall against her bare shoulder as he buried himself all the way in her only to pull out and push in deeper. "You feel so good. Fuck, I think I'm dying."

She cradled his head to her, and then let her fingers trail over his sweat-slicked shoulders. It had been too long, and he hoped she understood because Fred's whole body was focused on climax. His thrusts into her were hard, erratic and Angelina was moving with him, giving as much as she took. It was rough and desperate, but there was fluidness about their movements together and even in his mindlessness he was able to pull her along with him. Soon, they were choking back cries of release, doing a miserable job at being quiet. Fred captured her lips in fear of discovery, only to savor each moan he swallowed as they shuddered against each other.

Waves of pleasure washed over both of them until finally, only their laboured breathing and the sounds of the crackling fire filled the common room. Fred was still trying to catch his breath when Angelina groaned and winced as she disentangled herself from him. 

"Are you all right?" he said in concern as he brushed some sweat-slicked hair away from her face. "It's been a long time; I should have been more gentle."

She gave a quick laugh as she stretched her long limbs. "I am going to feel it in the morning, that's for sure. How'd such a short bloke get such a big--"

"Oi, I'm not short!" Fred said in outrage.

 

"You are, love. . .I'm at least an inch or two taller than you."

Yeah, he couldn't deny that. "I'm average," he amended, since there was something so offensive about being called short.

"I'd say you're better than average."

"Oh, thanks," he said, smiling as he pressed a kiss against her shoulder. "Trying to salvage a bloke's wounded ego."

"Your ego needs some wounding, it's entirely too big for you own good."

"Mmm, hmm. . ." he said, looking down at her and frowning, trying to remember what he'd forgotten earlier. Suddenly, it hit him and looked up at her, wide-eyed. "Oh bullocks, Angel, we forgot to do a contraception charm."

 

"It's okay," she said, unfazed as she stretched again, looking relaxed and sated. "I'm still on birth control potion."

Fred narrowed his eyes at her, feeling his breath hitch. "Why? Are you shagging someone?"

She rolled her eyes, a tiny smile gracing her lips. "No, prat, I just kept taking it because it keeps my cycle regular."

"Oh." Fred raised his eyebrows, relieved. "Was there something wrong with it before?"

"It just wasn't regular. . . Sometimes I'd go for months without my menses."

"And that's bad?"

 

"No, it's just. . ." She sighed, exasperated. "Oh, why do you care?"

"I care about everything to do with you," he said sincerely. "I love you."

She looked up at him, opening her mouth and then shutting it just as quickly. She shook her head and shoved at his shoulder. He rolled off her, and she dug through her clothes, pulling out her wand and performing a cleaning charm. She got dressed quickly while Fred lay there watching, still very naked. 

"You are so odd, Fred," she said, arching an eyebrow at him as she pulled on her dressing gown. "You'll scare the life out of some first year if they come down here and find you sprawled out starkers."

He shrugged and reached for his trousers and pants, deciding not to point out to her that she wasn't worried about him being starkers while she pulling his clothes off. With the zip still half way down on his trousers, he turned to her expectantly.

"Does this mean we're talking again?"

 

"I don't know. . ." She rubbed her eyes tiredly, and then looked at the floor. "I just. . . don't know. . . I'm exhausted. I need to go back to bed."

He nodded, not knowing what else he could say. His chest tightened when she turned away from him and walked towards the stairs that lead to her dormitory. When she disappeared around the second landing, he grabbed his wand and rumpled shirt, not bothering to put it on as he walked back up to his own dormitory. He reached their room and pushed open the door, not surprised to find George sitting on his bed, waiting for him. 

"Naughty, naughty. . .Shagging in the common room." George shook his head, smiling. "I'm so proud."

Someone else snorted, and Fred walked around the bed, arching an eyebrow at Ron who was sitting on the floor, leaning against Fred's bed, shirtless with a bottle of Fire whiskey in his hand. 

"What're you doing here?"

"Harry's still mad at him," George said helpfully, still looking very amused. "I found him drowning his sorrows in the loo."

 

"Drinking alone is never a good sign," Fred said, tossing his shirt on the floor, too tired to bother with putting it in the laundry.

"That's what I said."

"And you offered to help him out. . .How very brotherly of you."

"Don't I know it," George said, flopping over the bed to reach for the bottle Ron was holding. "I'd never let our youngest and dearest brother drink alone."

"You're practically a saint."

"Too true," George mused, taking a long drink. 

 

Fred chuckled, reaching into his drawer and George issued a low whistle when he dropped his trousers. Fred couldn't resist shaking his arse a little as he pulled on his pajamas. 

George guffawed loudly. "With an arse that sexy, how could the lovely Angelina resist you?"

"Shut up!" Lee mumbled from under the covers, throwing his spare pillow in the direction of George. "I'm trying to sleep."

George threw the pillow back, unperturbed. "How'd you manage to get yourself shagged. . . We're dying to know."

"You're dying to know," Ron said, finally breaking his silence. "I couldn't care less."

"Ignore him, he's still sour because Harry managed to beat the shit out of him. . . Shameful, that. . ."

 

Fred stared at Ron, surprised when he didn't rise to George's bait. He looked a far sight better than he had earlier that day in the hospital wing, but Fred could still see faint bruises on his face and chest. 

"How come they let you out? I thought Madam Pomfrey was going to keep you overnight."

"I hate the hospital wing," Ron said as if that explained it all, and then took another drink of whiskey. 

Fred dropped down next to Ron on the floor, shoving at his shoulder when he didn't move to accommodate him. "Budge up." Ron grudgingly moved over and Fred took the whiskey bottle from him, choking a little as he leaned back against his bed. "So, Ron. . .Lavender. . ."

Ron glowered at him. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Forget it, I've already tried," George said, sounding disappointed. "Tell us about Angelina, maybe it'll soften him up."

 

"I'm not telling you shit. . . You're not even supposed to know. She'll kill me if she finds out," Fred said, taking another drink, enjoying the burn as it ran down his throat.

"Not tell me?" George looked at him, aghast. "Your twin, your other half. . .Your _better_ half. . ."

Fred shrugged, handing the bottle back to Ron. "She's still hacked off. . .I guess she doesn't want anyone to know she shagged me. Makes her look bad."

"You'd think she'd want everyone to know. . .You are devastatingly handsome."

Fred smirked. "True."

 

"Talented."

"Very true."

George reached once more to take the bottle from Ron, nearly falling off the bed in the process. He took a drink and then handed it to Fred. "And lets not forget the Weasley charm, what bird can resist that?"

"Nine inches of charm. . ."

"Gross," Ron said, pulling a face. "I don't want to hear about it."

"It's okay, Ron, I can understand why you'd be intimidated."

 

Ron rolled his eyes, taking the whiskey bottle back. "You two really know how to entertain yourselves. . . Is that what you do when no one is around, compliment each other?"

"Well, it's hard to resist when you're faced with such beauty day in and day out." 

Fred batted his eyelashes as George blew him a kiss. They both crackled with laughter, so much so that George finally fell off the bed and Lee threw his alarm clock at them. It probably would have clipped Fred in the head if Ron hadn't caught it. 

When they'd settled, George stayed on the floor with Ron and Fred since the whiskey was more easily accessible that way. He hadn't eaten much at dinner, and Fred found that the whiskey was going to his head a bit. Between his time with Angelina and the whiskey, all he really needed now was a cigarette. He took one out and then put the pack into his pocket. 

"Toss me a fag," George said, piping up and handing the bottle back to Ron as he reached into Fred's shirt pocket himself and pulled out the cigarettes. "I kind of miss 'em."

"Nasty habit," Fred said, really not wanting George to start smoking again, even if he was jealous of his will power. 

 

"Relax, I just want one." George lit it with the tip of his wand and then coughed as he inhaled the smoke. "Ugh, it is a nasty habit. . . Why don't you quit?"

"Yes, why don't you?" Ron said, waving his hand in front of him in annoyance. "Why would you purposely do something that'll make you sick?"

"Oh gee, I don't know, Ron. . . Why don't you hand me _your whiskey_ and we'll discuss it."

"Touche," George said as he took another drag off the cigarette, pulled a face and leaned over to put it out in the ashtray next to Fred. "I'll tell you why you can't give up these nasty things. . .It's because you haven't been getting shagged. You'd rather sit up here and sulk with your cigarettes."

"Not true."

 

"It is true. I'm almost ashamed to call you my twin, letting a bird destroy you like this."

"She isn't just a bird. Don't talk about her like that."

George looked exasperated and took the bottle from Ron, taking a long drink out of it and turning back to Fred. "Please tell me that you and Angelina have made up, because really, if you're going to go around mooning over her, you ought to be getting shagged for it."

Fred winced, taking a drag of his cigarette and turning his head away from Ron to blow out the smoke. "I don't think we have. . . She left without saying anything." 

"Did she leave a galleon on the table for your services?"

"Bugger off," Fred said, taking the whiskey from George to kill the sting of how true those words felt. 

 

"You can't blame Angelina, Fred did fuck up," Ron offered, taking his whiskey back. "Sleeping with Katie was stupid."

"You really can't talk now can you, Ronnie?" Fred snapped, seeing Ron wince and only feeling mildly bad for it. "Why did you sleep with Lavender? She's really. . . not your type."

"You can say it. . .She's annoying as fuck," Ron slurred, and it obvious that the whiskey was getting to him. "I was pissed. I wasn't thinking right."

"Lavender's not that bad. . ." Fred offered sympathetically. "I guess I can see why you fucked her."

"She's no Hermione. . . Hermione's hot." George said, wagging his eyebrows. "I like her hair. . . It's different."

"Oi! You shouldn't even be looking at Hermione," Ron growled, pointing at George with the whiskey bottle still in his hand.

 

George yanked the bottle out of his hand, and grinned evilly. "Scared?"

"You even think about touching her and I forget we're brothers," Ron said, narrowing his eyes and looking very dangerous. "I'm serious."

"Whoa, he's kidding, Ronnikins," Fred said, putting his hand on Ron's chest and pushing him back. He took the bottle from George and thrust it into Ron's hand. "Here, have a drink. . ."

"Letting a woman come between family. . .Now that's sad. Nothing should come before family," George said, sounding very disappointed in both of them.

"Evil, yet strangely loyal at the same time. . . And Angelina thinks I'm the odd one," Fred said, shaking his head and smiling. 

"She called you odd?" 

 

"Yeah, she called me short too."

George gasped in outrage. "You're not short, you're perfect!"

"I know!"

"You are short," Ron said, smiling in spite of his fowl mood. "You definitely got the stubby genes in the family."

"Whoa, are you insinuating something?"

Ron shrugged, still smiling. "You two have been known to exaggerate. . . I doubt your charm is all you say it is." 

 

"Oh no! He's insulting the family jewels. . . Fred, go get Angelina. I'm sure she'd be kind enough to enlighten our misguided brother."

"Forget her, I'll prove it right now!"

Fred moved to jump up and Ron stopped him, finally laughing. "Fine, I believe you. . .My stomach couldn't handle you proving it."

"This is true, Fred. . .His ego may never recover once faced with a sword so mighty."

Fred settled back against the bed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out another cigarette. "We wouldn't want him to feel like he's lacking. . . Could create a lifetime of sexual performance issues."

"We do have the family reputation to consider."

 

"Not to mention whatever poor, hapless girl could end up facing Ron and his broken wand. . . Not a pretty picture. . ."

"Thanks for sparing me and my wand." Ron laughed, his face flushed with mirth and too much alcohol. "You're real mates."

"Did he just call us mates?"

"He's pissed off his arse," Fred said, laughing along with Ron.

 

They continued to joke and drink until the bottle was nearly empty. Fred was pretty drunk, but Ron was so far gone his head kept falling forward in exhaustion as he blinked heavy lidded, bloodshot eyes at his brothers.

 

"How much sleep have you had, Ronnie?" George ask, the mirth slipping out of his voice as he stared at Ron in concern.

Fred eyed him too, worried. "I found him in the shower yesterday morning. . .He'd been up all night."

"Lavender?"

"Right, and I doubt he got much sleep in the hospital wing after that fight with Harry."

"Bugger," George said, leaning forward to pry the bottle out of Ron's hand. Ron didn't even protest as his head fell limply to the side, resting on Fred's shoulder and not moving. "He's passed out."

"We'll never get him up to the fifth year dorm. . . I'm too pissed to manage anything close to a levitating charm."

 

"Me too," George said, setting the bottle down and standing up, swaying slightly as he shook his head. "Way too pissed. . .Lets just put him in your bed."

"Sounds good," Fred said, shaking his own head to clear some of the fogginess as he moved to stand up, while trying to prevent Ron from crashing to the floor. "Here, help me with him."

Fred stood and pulled the sheets on his bed back while George barely managed to heft Ron to his feet, groaning under his dead weight. "Fuck me, when'd he get so bloody heavy. . ."

A few colorful phrases later and they managed to get Ron into bed, their fingers fumbling as they pulled at the laces of his boots. They tossed his boots aside and let him sleep above the covers, knowing that he'd probably kick them off anyway. Then Fred and George crashed, exhausted and drunk, into George's bed. They didn't fit as easily as they had when they'd been kids, but it didn't matter, they made do.

Fred's eyelids were instantly heavy, and he thought again about Angelina, trying to hold the image of her in his mind as he started to drift off to sleep, but George nudged him.

"Hey, Fred. . ."

 

"Huh?"

"Did Angelina really call you short?"

"Yup."

"Do you think she was serious?"

"Fuck, George, I don't know. . .Go to sleep."

"You don't think we're short, do you?"

 

"I guess it's all a matter of perception. I don't feel short."

"Heh, yeah, me either." George laughed, leaning his head against Fred's shoulder to stifle his chuckles. "Everyone else is just too bloody tall."

Fred had bury his face in his pillow as he choked back his laughter, and when they finally fell silent, his eyes closed lazily. The image of Angelina was back and being short was the last thing on mind. Somehow, she always made him feel like the tallest bloke in the world.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


End file.
